The dampening runes of the secret lift hummed softly as it descended deep into the bedrock beneath the Fleshcraft tower. Kale Ardentis stood in the dim, stone cabin, his hands tucked inside his grey sleeves.
Beside him, Lazek Oberon held a flickering oil lamp, the yellow light casting long, skeletal shadows against the damp granite walls.
They were bypassing the Association's standard floors, heading toward a forgotten cellar that had been carved out during the founding era, far beneath the reach of the Inquisition's scrying arrays.
The subterranean architecture was cold, the moisture from the overhead pipes dripping onto the stone floor with a slow, rhythmic clink that emphasised the deep isolation of their hidden workshop.
"The paladins have set up mana-sensing pillars at the main gates," Lazek said, his voice a whisper that barely carried over the mechanical grinding of the lift chains.
